


Legends

by potentiality_26



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Background Slash, Community: older_not_dead, F/M, Friendship/Love, Het, Immortality, M/M, Mentions of Helen/John, Mentions of James/John, Mentions of Murder, Multi, Polyamory, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Helen enjoyed having dinner with James, of course she did, but when it came to his tastes- in food, in wine, in nearly everything- it was as though no time had passed at all.  When he dressed for dinner, it might as well have been 1888 again.  Helen didn’t mind dressing for dinner- she enjoyed looking good as much as anyone- but she favored modern styles.  She hated to look in the mirror and forget how much time had passed.</i>
</p><p>Helen and James- and the changing times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legends

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the older_not_dead Promptathon 18 (History) prompt: History class. 
> 
> It's been quite a while since I saw _Sanctuary_ last, and there are parts of the final season I never saw, so bear that in mind. This is set pre-series, but my timeline could be wonky.

When Helen put a final pin in her hair, some of it tumbled down her neck in soft curls and she found she liked the effect. She tugged a little on the hem of her black sheath and sighed to herself, feeling vaguely as though she was going into battle.

Helen enjoyed having dinner with James, of course she did, but when it came to his tastes- in food, in wine, in nearly everything- it was as though no time had passed at all. When he dressed for dinner, it might as well have been 1888 again. Helen didn’t mind dressing for dinner- she enjoyed looking good as much as anyone- but she favored modern styles. She hated to look in the mirror and forget how much time had passed. Dyeing her hair dark had been a good choice in that regard, but even now- as she got ready to leave her room- she caught herself half expecting to hear John Druitt’s laugh in corridor.

She shook herself and headed downstairs.

Part of the effect, she knew, was the fault of the city itself, not James. It was easier for her to visit James than the other way around, for obvious reasons. Over the years, it became more and more complicated for him to go any great distance- whereas she packed light and in general enjoyed traveling. For some years, though, he had been the one who came to her. She was the only physician who knew all the details of his medical history- also for obvious reasons- and considering how difficult it was for either of them to get a free moment one of them had had to bend first. It had usually been James, because Helen simply didn’t like to go back to London once she'd left, and her friend could never quite bear to make her.  

She had begun to conquer that reluctance in recent years, but her visits were still rare enough that she descended the stairs with care, having to remind herself where his rooms were.

As she had suspected, it was a little like going back in time. The building itself was an old one, and Helen’s impression was that James had done everything he could to keep the décor more or less the same in all that time. She couldn’t blame him, even if it made her uneasy- they both dealt with living as long as they had in different ways: Helen had met the changing world head on, but James clearly felt more… displaced than she did, and clung to the trappings of the time he came from whenever he could.

Really, the antiquated decorations and habits were, in a way, a largely harmless indulgence. Helen had spent most of the day exploring his sanctuary, which was itself entirely modern- even if she was sure it was James’ people- not James himself- who monitored the day to day functions of its computer system and other tech.

James was standing by the fire. His suit was technically of modern make- she knew that much- but the general effect was very Victorian- and since he remained, in many ways, a Victorian gentleman the impression remained when he turned to her.

“Helen.” He crossed to her and kissed her cheek. “Have I mentioned how glad I am you came?”

“Once or twice,” she smiled.

He smiled back and led her to the small table, set for two, in the center of the room. The food was already on it, and he pulled out her chair. “I’m sorry about today, though I don’t doubt you kept yourself occupied.”

“Of course,” she told him as she sat down.

James’ sanctuary was more difficult to extricate from the government that grudgingly allowed it to exist than hers was. According to James, this was auspicious when it came to finding abnormals and getting help to those that needed it, but less so given that he had to make full reports to politicians and oversight committees virtually every day. It was these very reports that had occupied him most of that day.

Helen told James about the new residents of his that she had met, and the improvements to his security she had noted. “After that, I went for a walk in the park.” She preferred parks to the city proper; London had been busy in her- their- day, but no one from back then would have believed how just busy it would eventually become. Those times she had decided to wander a bit, she had envied James his opportunity to watch such a remarkable city grow up around him. Then she turned a corner into a street where the Ripper killings might have been yesterday, and found that she didn’t envy James one bit.

He poured her some wine and served her from the various dishes, telling her how his report had gone. In return, she related some of her news from back home. Conversation had always flowed freely between them; that too was something that hadn’t changed at all.    

“I’ve been doing some guest lecturing,” he told her when they were both nearly finished eating. “On the Victorian period. Of course, only a select few are aware of how very well qualified to discuss the subject I am.”

“I’ve been approached to do the same,” Helen said. She’d been avoiding their calls.

“It has its benefits. None of which make it any more pleasant, ultimately, to discover that we-” there was no need for him explain who ‘we’ meant- “have become history. Legends, in some cases. I…” James sighed. “I’m pleased to be here, Helen, never doubt it, but…”

“But?”

“But human beings were never meant to live long enough to watch the experts get things wrong.”

She actually couldn’t help but agree.

“Also, when I’m called upon to discuss Jack the Ripper I have a nearly irrepressible urge to throw things.” James said it with humor in his voice, and Helen thought that human beings weren’t meant to live that long, either.

She was the one who had put the pieces together in the end, the one who tracked John down. She’d put a stop to the Ripper killings that night, but she hadn’t managed to stop John; that there would always be more killings was her particular burden to bear. James’ was a little different, Helen knew. She also knew that it was more than the intellectual failure that had made James shut himself away for years after that- he had loved John too, after all- and now he fancied himself recovered. Helen was sure he wasn’t, but it certainly spoke to the passage of time.

They had become history indeed. Something talked about, hopefully learned from, but never felt. Never understood- not in the way that only someone who was there could truly understand.

Helen laughed, obediently, and then they talked of other things. She couldn’t quite put it from her mind- this image of James teaching a history class about things he’d _lived_ \- and it distracted her. James was as observant as ever, and she knew that he noticed her distraction, but he didn’t remark on it. He knew that she would speak on the subject when she was ready to. It was another benefit of their having known each other for so long.  

After they were finished eating, he kissed her- on the mouth that time. That at least cleared her mind.  

In the beginning, there were five- but there were also, in a way, only three. She and John were both quite helplessly drawn to James’ brilliance- to the sparks of intellect he seemed to give off in showers. And back then John was all kindness and exuberance, spontaneity and energy, and she and James- serious, logical, and scientific as they were- were likewise drawn to that. It would have been a lie to say that she never envied what James and John ultimately shared, but she did so only in as much as she envied men everything that was considered their territory alone; she knew John didn’t love her any less for being likewise enamored of James.

The leg of their particular triangle that connected Helen to James had been primarily intellectual in nature for as long as Helen could remember, but it existed, beyond all doubt. Sometimes Helen was surprised that it didn’t express itself physically more often than it did- but they did see each other so rarely. She leaned close and kissed him again.

Sometimes what really mattered was to have someone who understood.    


End file.
